


Let Me Stop You For A Minute

by GretchenSinister



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Gen, I don't like rating things for language but I do say "fuck" a lot in this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-26 04:40:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19760785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GretchenSinister/pseuds/GretchenSinister
Summary: Original Prompt: "Over a period of years, Jack has picked up some *very* colorful language. The other Guardians learn this, as they’re in a heavy fight against Pitch, who manages to piss off Jack just a leeeettle too much.+++ infinity if you use the colorful swears from the Firefly series, but feel free to make up your own o3o"I’m not familiar with Firefly, but I am familiar with using the word “fuck” a lot. Enjoy Jack ranting at Pitch, and some minor confusion regarding what should and should not be literal.





	Let Me Stop You For A Minute

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr on 3/31/2016.

“All right. You know what? Stop.”  
  
Pitch normally doesn’t, not when he’s in the middle of a monologue, and especially not when he’s accidentally gotten himself closer to his foes than he intended—that is, too close to use his scythe and just close enough for swords—but he’s never been interrupted by Jack before, and the novelty startles him into silence.  
  
Jack folds his arms. “We were having a nice day, you know that? Everything was going just fine, and then you showed up. For no good reason. And so. I just have to ask. Why, exactly, are you such a supreme shitlord? What is your fucking damage? Before I became a Guardian, you hadn’t been making a nuisance of yourself every five fucking seconds. But now, it’s not even that you’re trying to piss on our parade. We don’t have to have anything close to a parade for you to come piss on it. You just always have to come around, being a complete fucktruck and I can’t fucking figure out why! Like, do you really enjoy having your ass kicked? Can you arrange to maybe have your ass kicked by someone else, or on a schedule, so that you don’t have to interrupt us in whatever we were doing so that you can get an ass-kicking? We can accommodate your fucking needs. Maybe on Tuesdays? I’ll take Tuesdays, I don’t know about everyone else. I don’t know who’s going to sign up for the weekends, I don’t know who’s going to decide that they want to end their week with a nice, relaxing time kicking your ass, but I’m sure someone will. So, I’m going to suggest that you just fuck off right now, and think about that, and maybe send a nice embossed card with little black curlicues around the edges the next time you want your ass kicked, postage paid RSV-fucking-P included, and we can end this fucking song and dance.  
  
“In summary: Fuck off, you fucking fuck.”  
  
Pitch stares at Jack, his mouth hanging open.  
  
Everyone stares at Jack, their mouths hanging open. After a moment or two Sandy turns to Tooth, a number of grawlixes followed by a question mark appearing over his head.  
  
“Um, no, Jack was using that as an intensifier, not literally, he wasn’t saying we would…”  
  
Sandy nods slowly, eyes narrowed. Yes, that does make more sense, he signs to Tooth.  
  
In the silence and at this distance, Pitch can hear and see this conversation easily, and a blotchy flush of embarrassment creeps up his neck. Well, then. It’s going to be very difficult to turn this into an epic battle between good and evil again, at this point. It’s going to be very difficult to respond in any way without looking petulant. Maybe he will have to stop picking fights with the Guardians. After all, Jack _is_ right. Their only results have been him getting beaten, again and again and again. Can he work with this? He’d better, he can’t stand here much longer without saying anything without looking like a complete numbskull.   
  
“Indeed, Jack?” he asks, raising one hairless brow as scornfully as he can (which is pretty scornfully; all that practice has paid off). “I suppose you’ve made your point. Very well. I will ‘fuck off,’ as you say, as I did before you became a Guardian, and only return when I’m really playing to win.” He smirks, and turns to go. “Don’t expect to find me before then, though, perhaps the entrances to my lair might—just might—open to someone who was genuinely interested in taking your statement about accommodating certain of my needs in a literal sense.” He pauses. Blast! Sandy doesn’t look embarrassed at all. Maybe he just couldn’t cut his way through the sentence; it had been rather strained. He shrugs, going for elegant even though he knows one can’t go for elegant on purpose. “Anyway, as I said. I won’t be seeing you.”  
  
He wouldn’t be quite right about that, however. But that’s a problem for another day. 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments from Tumblr:
> 
> jacquelyn-frost-overland reblogged this from gretchensinister and added:  
> hehe this is great
> 
> piratekingpitchblack reblogged this from gretchensinister and added:  
> OH MY LORD!! SUCH LANGUAGE!!!


End file.
